Her Cherry Moon


This story contains some domination and cuckold elements (though maybe not in the way you’d expect), and the husband character isn’t treated very nicely. Please read no further if any of this will bother you.

All my thanks to Rachel (DirtyMindedMinx on here) for publishing an earlier version of this story on her wonderful site.

All characters are 18 or older.

By the time they actually knocked on my door, I’d already heard enough of what my parents were saying that my heartbeat drowned out the thud.

“Of course she’s ready,” my mother had whispered insistently. “I’m telling you, she wants it.”

Dad responded with the dull slurred grunt that meant he was drunk. He only drank when she did, and she made sure he kept up with her. She knew how to go in for the kill.

“Now, you’re going to get some backbone, we’re going to go in there, and you’re going to be a daddy to your little girl.” I could almost hear her take a breath. “The kind of daddy she needs.”

I swallowed as the door swung open and they ambled in, Mom’s eyes going directly to mine as she dragged Dad towards my bed by his undone belt, never looking away as she fished his thick cock, half-hard and leaking pre-cum, out of his thin underwear.

His pants pooled around his ankles as he stepped out of them and climbed uneasily onto the bed. He looked down at his bare knees and reached a warm hand out to my calf, running softly up and down, my legs propped up from my bedtime reading and spread open, wet crotch of my pink sleep-shorts almost certainly visible in the lamplight. I wondered if they could smell me, too.

“Jenny has a little crush on someone,” my mother said, eyes still in mine. My father said nothing. Mom licked her lips.

“Someone she wants to fuck. Someone to pop her little cherry…

“Don’t you, baby?”

. . .

It was late on a Sunday afternoon, and Mom and I were snuggling on the couch. We had spent most of the day out on a picnic, and were now relaxing in front of an episode of some nice old TV show. I was a little nervous, and struggling not to show it, as I had usually been around Mom lately. I knew she had been able to sense it, and I was basically waiting for when she would bring it up.

Now, it turned out.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You’ve seemed a bit withdrawn lately.”

“Yeah,” I replied, awkwardly. “Just…teenage stuff.” As soon as the words left my mouth I knew they wouldn’t hold up. Stupid.

“You can tell me what you mean by that, sweetie. I was there not too long ago, you know.”

How could I forget? I had been born when Mom was in 10th grade, and at the time things started, she was only 33 to my 18. She was statuesque, stunningly gorgeous, and inasmuch as I knew what love meant, I was in love with my mother. She was never out of my mind for more than a minute. I wanted to marry her, have her babies, nevermind that it was impossible. I had a collection of photographs of her in various stages of undress, both a small folder behind my bookcase and a flash drive hidden in my closet, full of videos I’d snuck on my cell phone: bikini at the beach, sundress on breezy days, eagle-eyed shower exits, all when I thought she wasn’t looking.

Yet there, nestled into her warm body, soft yet so, so strong, I couldn’t bring myself to admit to any of it.

“It’s nothing,” I shrugged.

“Come on, Jenny. You know that’s not going to work with me.”

“Sex stuff…” I trailed off, closing my eyes in a so-juvenile escape attempt. She cupped my chin, forcing them open.

“Mmm.” She grinned at me. “About…?”

I didn’t answer, and she put pressure on the underside of my neck. Like I said, she was a strong woman. Her every touch reverberated. I let myself look up into her eyes, looking back at me with unwavering intensity, and I just knew I couldn’t tell her. Not then. So I opted for bursa escort stupid. Again.

“Daddy!” I choked out.

Her normally immaculate façade seemed to crack for a moment. She looked, dare I say, stunned. But not for more than a moment.

“Oh. Well. That’s news, isn’t it?” She scratched the back of her head.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mom…”

“Don’t be silly, Jenny. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

I suddenly started considering the bigger implications of my little fib. “You’re not gonna tell him, are you?!”

She looked away for a moment. I swore I saw a smile curl into the far corner of her mouth. “Of course not. Now, get to your homework. We can talk later if you want.”

. . .

“…Don’t you, baby?”

Her question jarred me. I didn’t know how to answer. There’s no way I could go back on my lie, not with Dad here like this. But I also knew exactly why they were here. I kept my head down and said nothing.

“Looks like little Jenny is shy tonight.” Mom reached out to my pajama top and started unbuttoning it. I froze. How many times had I fantasized about this exact moment? Hands down my panties, Mommy undressing me, caressing and marveling at my developing body. But my drunken dad was never there. And now he was leering at me, too, looking more amenable to the whole idea the more of my chest my mother exposed to his hungry eyes. My checkered top was tossed in the corner; my sleep shorts soon joined them. Mom started to spread my legs as Dad finished getting undressed and started easing towards me on his knees.

“Maybe we should put it in a story,” Mom said, winking at my father. “It’s been a while since we’ve read our pretty baby a bedtime story.”

“Mmm. That sounds nice.”

“Once upon a time, there was a girl named Jenny with very pretty red hair…who had a very big crush on her daddy.”

My father chuckled, clearly into it by now. “Is that right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mom didn’t even look at me as her hand went to my pussy, stroking it softly. “Such a big crush that she wanted her daddy to fuck her.” She thumbed my clit and worked her fingers inside my soaked hole, up to my hymen, prodding it firmly. “To take her virginity. To pop her little red cherry.” Pressure, again, harder. I knew she could feel my wetness leaking out, dripping over her fingers onto my clean white sheets.

“Mmm, I think Jenny’s nice ‘n ready for Daddy. Aren’t you, Jenny?” She flicked my clit and I answered the only way I possibly could.


“No!” She smacked my pussy hard; I shrieked. She tugged on my sparse pubic hair. “Say it.”

I groaned and could no longer keep from rubbing my clit as my father eyed me intently. “I’m ready for you, Daddy…I’m ready for you to fuck me now.”

“Oh, baby girl…” He seemed to have sobered up a little, enough to resemble my father again. He lined up his fat cock at the entrance of my little pussy, stroking up and down as my mother massaged my lips with one hand and squeezed his shaft with the other. She nudged the bulbous head inside me and I immediately felt stretched to my limit. Dad continued to push in, causing me to cry out in agony and ecstasy, my mother lovingly circling my clit and doing her best to get me accustomed to his size.

“How is it, baby?” She asked, as he pressed up against my maidenhood.

“Big…” I eked out, eyelids fluttering.

“Mmmhmm. I think he’s just about there, isn’t he?”


“Get ready, Jenny,” Daddy said. His head pushed through, pain incarnate for a cold moment before the rest followed, filling my cunt up with a warmth worth freezing for. I squeezed him as hard as I could, screaming, “Daddy!” My mother’s lips silenced me, her tongue sliding into my mouth and miming my father’s cock in plunging as deep as possible. He was going harder malatya escort now, taking no heed of my cries, though they were almost all in pleasure by this point. I couldn’t take all of him, and he was at least conscious enough not to push to my ends every time.

My mother pulled away and kissed me on the nose before shifting her body and straddling my stomach, her knees nudging my arms from my side, pinning me to the mound of pillows around my neck. I felt helpless, stuffed, hurting, loved. As an orgasm began deep inside me and my head slipped back, she grabbed me behind the neck and forced me forward. What I saw made me cum on the spot: her sex-damp body glistening in the pale moonlight, completely eclipsing my father as he stretched my cunt well past what I would have sworn were its limits. She was like some kind of god or monster out of a fairy tale; I could almost see steam escaping from her nostrils.

Suddenly, she bent over me and cupped her hands around my face. I knew my father couldn’t hear us. He was oblivious anyway.

“Are you okay?” I could tell this wasn’t part of whatever fucked-up game she was playing. She was just being my mom.

“Yeah…I think so.”

“It doesn’t hurt too much?”

“Nuh…” I grunted as my father continued to pound me. “It feels good…”

“Good.” Another smooch on the nose. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

“‘Kay…” One syllable was all I could muster as another massive orgasm washed over me. My father came too, flooding my insides with his cum and crushing me with his body as soon as Mom slid off, his slight pooch oddly comforting atop my thin, wiry middle. He lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, before nuzzling my face with his scratchy shadow and rising to his elbows. The veins of his cock pulsed along my inner walls as he withdrew slowly, agonizingly, shaft coated soft pink in our shared cream and slicks of first-fucked blood. My mother’s eyes were drawn to it, her mouth dreamily following as she began to clean him off, humming throatily in my direction as I stared, dumbstruck.

“You taste so good on Daddy’s cock, baby,” she let out as she slurped me greedily off his cock, “all that yummy frosting and fresh cherry juice for Mommy…”

That she was so into drinking the cum and blood she had made Dad fuck out of me weirded me out way more than the actual fucking. I laid back, exhausted, and closed my eyes.

I quickly fell asleep into uneasy dreams, a parent on either side of me.

. . .

In case you’ve gotten the wrong idea, my dad was never abusive or ever even mean, really. Just kind of…dumb. But he meant well. He was an assistant manager at the only used car lot in town, and had a reputation for being easy to get a great deal from if you could come up with a half-decent sob story. I often wondered why Mom had married him, educated, traveled, and a little elitist as she was. Sometimes I’d catch an intense look she’d shoot him when she thought neither of us was watching, across the dinner table as he was telling us an embarrassing work story he thought he came off as honorable in, or as he was the phone with his mother, awkwardly defending himself in vain against her accusations of dullness and failure (she had made it something of a routine at family dinners, after a few glasses of wine). The look definitely wasn’t angry in its intensity, but I couldn’t define it beyond that. As consistent as my mother was as a mother, attentive and nurturing, there were moments where an indefinable otherness emerged from her—the only way I can describe it—that deeply unsettled me even as it stoked my curiosity, about her, about life, like nothing else. The visions in my head that night were some surreal semblance of my feelings about all of this, though, like usual, I remembered almost nothing upon waking.

“Good morning.”

My çanakkale escort eyes opened to my mother’s face, smiling in early sunlight. “Your father went to get a few things. I told him we could use some alone time.”

I moaned and allowed my fingers to explore my beat-up pussy. “I think that’s an understatement.”

“What I’m going to tell you is an explanation, not an excuse.” She took a deep breath. “You see, I’m wired a little differently than normal, sweetie…except unlike most people who are like me, not only am I aware of what I’m missing, but I know that I should have it, so that’s why I like having people around who do. It keeps me…happy. And safe.” Safe? I thought to myself. She smiled at me. “Your father is such a sweet man, and I admire so much about him. He fulfills me in this very special way I need, but I’m sure you know as well as I do how flawed he is.” I felt my face flicker involuntarily in empathy. She looked seriously at me before she continued.

“But you, Jenny…you’re all that and more. You’re brilliant, beautiful, in-tune with everything and everyone around you…you can deny it, but I know you’ve seen something in me. Something I’ve been able to hide all my life, from everyone. Except you.”

I got chills at that last part.

“Jennifer…I’m trying to say that you’re a piece of me. I know all parents feel that way, but I mean something else. There’s no explanation that I could give you, or one that would make sense. To either of us, probably. But I know it started with your father. And it’s ending now. With you.”

Now it felt like shock. She was completing sentences I hadn’t known I’d started; thinking thoughts I’d had myself but only half-remembered. Things of dreams, or nightmares.

“And I know how you feel. About me.” Of course. “I’ve always known. So when you wouldn’t admit it to me, even as I was giving you all I had to offer…”

I snorted. “What? You what? Thought you’d have Dad rape it out of me?”

“You wanted it. And loved it. And you want this, too.”

She palmed my cunt roughly, grinding the heel into my clit, tickling and penetrating my lips. She kissed me. I put up a brief struggle before I realized it was pointless. She was right. I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything.

She made her way down to my pussy.

“Oh, my…Daddy made a mess out of you, didn’t he, baby?”


“Bruised you up a little?”


“And why did he do that?”

“I dunno…”

“Oh, I think you do.” She nibbled on my clit and I cried out.

“Unnnh…I lied to Mommy…”

“Yes, you did, but lucky for you Mommy’s awfully forgiving…” She bathed my lips with her tongue, in great love, her saliva a salve on the scars she had left. I felt lifted, and thrust my hips up to meet her. Mother laughed and dug her nails into my asscheeks, spreading them wide open to get her tongue at the greasy asshole inside, swabbing it wholly, and circling like warm water down my thirsty drain. She went deep, seemingly changing shape inside me, transforming me in turn. I gripped the headboard for dear life, never having experienced anything close to what I was at that moment. Mom was tweaking my clit at the same time, pinching me right to the point of unbearable intensity then reigning me in with the warm touch of a mother. I came at least twice like that, wetting my sheets, everything collected overnight having stained deep through to the mattress, as I later learned after Mom made Dad do the laundry. All of it.

It turned out when Mom said she had sent Dad “out for a few things”, she was talking about an apartment and a bed. She told him the marriage was over, she was selling the house, and she and I were moving out-of-state. I guess he didn’t put up much of a fight.

. . .

I nodded off atop my mother early that afternoon, already asleep herself, my left breast nestled neatly between hers.

When she woke up, she later told me, while her eyes were still closed, she felt her heart beat for the first time she could ever remember. She didn’t question it. She didn’t open her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around my back, kissed my nose, and the heart beat on.

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